


Baby Teeth

by cherryblur



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Cannibalism, Flowers, Gore, M/M, Mutilation, Plants, Science Experiments, Self-Mutilation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-08 03:42:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17973806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryblur/pseuds/cherryblur
Summary: They live in a greenhouse, he thinks, and watches Josh stuff dirt into his gaping calf.





	Baby Teeth

**Author's Note:**

> it’s supposed to be confusing

What’s he good for?  
Josh asks him it so often it’s become a brand in his mind; a constant reminder, maybe. 

“I keep them alive,” He’ll always reply, lips parted and eyes wide, thighs spread beneath him like he’s waiting for God’s salvation. 

Josh towers above him, dark and quiet and _touching_ , he’s always touching.  
“How?” He asks, fingers nudging over the bulging scars trailing down Tyler’s arms. His own handiwork. 

The plants sprout from the stitching wounds, small and thriving and feeding off of flesh and blood.  
Tyler bows his legs and flutters those pretty eyelashes and says not a word because he knows Josh will answer his own question without giving him one. 

“So elegant,” Josh murmurs. He’ll kneel down to Tyler’s level, thumbs almost crushing the leaves and petals nestled in his tan skin. 

They’re sewn in, tucked away and kept alive by the brunette. He breathes for them, sticky and full from his flowered lungs. 

He’s drooling, his spit gooey and rose colored and uncontrollable because his tongue can’t stick out any farther than his teeth.  
Josh got a bit sloppy with the pruning shears last month. 

He watches him unfold, watches the blush from his gaze spread down, making the pretty white flowers gushing from Tyler’s stomach stand out dazzlingly. 

He’s attentive, a little too much because he’s making Tyler fall apart simply with his eyes. He waits until the brunette’s lip is quivering and tears shed from his big doe eyes. 

“Help them,” He pleads, the stub of his tongue hitting the too high front row of his teeth. “They will die.” 

He doesn’t want the answer he knows Josh will give. He wants love, he wants Josh to nourish them. 

He’s too dainty, in pain and weeping before Josh because he doesn’t want his heavenly plants to wither.  
He knows Josh does this to break him. 

To remind him of who made him like this, and of how close he’s been getting to losing it all.  
“Josh,” He stutters.

“Do you want them to live?”  
Josh speaks slow, breathes slow, licks his lips and wants to rip every last stem from Tyler’s veins. 

“Use your words, Tyler. Do you?” 

Tyler shakes. He clutches his stomach and feels he might throw up all the flowers stirring in his belly. 

“Yes,” He hiccups. 

Josh stands again, becomes the higher up, the ruler, the master. 

“Feed them,” He says bluntly.

Tyler coughs up petals and sobs between his gags. 

“Feed them, Tyler.” Josh’s voice is so quiet, too quiet. 

Tyler feeds them. 

He feeds his flowers, his plants and vines and he’s bleeding, aching and ripping skin for the benefit of his lovelies.  
They seem to hum in a grateful response. Tyler holds his guts in and wants to lick the blood sputtering from his mouth. 

He looks up, desperately waiting for a response. Praise. 

Blood puddles around him, staining his garments, coating him in sticky reds mixed with wilted petals.  
His canines hang down below his lip, making him look like a dog in heat.

Panting, whimpering and begging for mercy, this time. 

Josh makes him stand, kisses him and wipes everything away.  
Bandages his tummy, keeps his hands on it just in case all those sloppy petal-filled organs decided to spill. 

He bathes him, waters his blooms and watches them grow further from his skin, almost ready and ripe for picking. 

The line his arms, bunch at his shoulders. Slither down his back and over his thighs like some twisted science experiment.  
They cover the scars and bulging packs of earth stuffed into his veins, infecting and eating away every last piece of him. 

Worms, bugs, they flock. Fertilize his tissue and pollinate his flowers. He coughs up oil slick blood and feels like his body can’t take another when Josh sews in a budding baby’s breath cluster into his stomach.

When they’re blooming, he’ll pick them. Slip them in vases and create decorations from his greenery. 

Tyler hates that.  
He hates having to drain his blood to fill the containers. To feed them when they’re not even his anymore. 

He watches his babes, his children, sit and rot in a windowsill where he can’t touch. 

Josh is always there, though, to remind him of his purpose. 

He’s got more to grow anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> give me some gross prompts   
> weird stuff please


End file.
